


Bell jar

by ca_te



Category: Death Note
Genre: Angst, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-06
Updated: 2010-09-06
Packaged: 2017-10-11 12:38:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/112488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ca_te/pseuds/ca_te





	Bell jar

  


  
  


**Title**: Bell jar  
**Pairing**: Matt/Near (implied Mello/Near and Matt/Mello)  
**Genre**: Romance (and as always a bit of sadness)  
**Rating**: PG  
**Notes**: This takes place before Near leaves Wammy's and after Mello left. Also references to Near's imagined past  
**Disclaimer**: I do not own Death Note or its characters  


 

  


Near was already at Wammy's when his mind started to remember. When his legs began to hold him up. One of the first things he remembers is a pale boy, with dark hair. He remembers his thin, long fingers putting puzzle pieces in place. Once he had asked him to lift him up, the boy had looked at him, his grey eyes growing wider for a second. “I can't, Near”, he had said. And Near hadn’t asked again.

That was how L was for Near, a guy afraid to hug him.

When Near started to count he was two years old. He liked to write down numbers and numbers on a blackboard. He still was too short to reach for it. They had put it on the ground and Near used to sit on it, surrounded by numbers. He didn't see the way L smiled when he saw him like that for the first time.

Near started to count  and to talk because it seemed the only thing he could do in the world. They had said it was good, he had had his doubts but he followed. He followed L's crouched silhouette. He wasn't curious. It was just a reasonable path.

Only some years later he discovered what i_nprinting_ meant. He wasn't surprised.

 

The first time he saw Mello, jumping around L, he wondered if inprinting was possible also for a seven year old boy. Near was the only one who didn't mistake Mello for a girl. Now, Mello was the first thing to catch Near's attention so strongly, after the numbers when he was two years old. He had too much light in his eyes, his voice was too alive. It was like a red spot on a white surface. Near felt like a white, plain surface. And Mello always painted his anger, his desires over the plain surface Near was.

Near knew it. He let Mello hit him. He let Mello take his virginity. He still had his numbers, the letters of his works, they were calming. They were able to cure the wounds, ‘cause they were the path L had chosen for him. But then L died and Mello was all Near had. He knew perfectly that Mello would leave, to go after Kira. And he knew they would send him too, in the world to defeat L’s murderer.

 

It was before he left Wammy’s to go to Los Angeles. In that grey area which was his life without L and without Mello. Near used to be more crouched that ever, his knees up to his chest. Matt used to sit with him, to look at his short, fast fingers putting the pieces in place.

Matt spent his days longing, thinking of where Mello could be. Near spent his days with his puzzles and his numbers. Being together wasn’t really important for them, it was the only way things could be. It was another of the paths others chose for them. Mello chose that for them.

 

Matt didn’t like loneliness, it was like a creeping beast. And even if Near didn’t talk it was enough to have him sitting there, the _clack_ of the puzzle pieces filling the space between them.

Near thought talking wasn’t something needed. In the end the only time he should have said something was to L. He should have told to L to just hug him. Near hadn’t need to talk with Mello. Mello had been satisfied enough by Near’s skin and Near’s light touches.

 

Near used to glance at Matt from under the curtain of his white hair. Matt’s skin was pale, his hands were bony. Near thought that Matt wasn’t made for silence.

Near hadn’t done anything for anyone. Only for L, for L he continued to live surrounded by numbers, as when he was little and sat alone on that blackboard.

But well, Near looked at Matt’s hair, they were somehow less red. And Near let his lips and his tongue move.

“I miss him too”. Matt didn’t ask whom. He just softly caressed Near’s hair. Near let him doing. He looked at his blank puzzle feeling Matt fingers running through his hair. He wondered if Matt had touched Mello like that too. He knew Mello would have let Matt do everything to him. So Near thought it wouldn’t be bad to let Matt do what he wanted with him too.

Matt wasn’t demanding. He was the kind of boy who knew, or well tried to remind to himself, that things might break if he wasn’t careful. So he didn’t ask. He just asked if he could help with the puzzle. Near didn’t need help. He said “yes”, though. That’s how their hands touched for the first time. It wasn’t something planned. There were just fingers brushing against fingers. Not a word was said. Matt sucked in air. Near’s heart silently skipped a beat.

It wasn’t like being touched by Mello.

Mello’s touches were planned, both Near and Matt expected his hands. Sometimes they were slow, sometimes they were fast. They were Mello’s hands.

From that first time slowly their elbows, and wrists, and shoulders brushed against each other. Once Matt tried to whisper a “sorry”, Near just looked at him. Matt knew those eyes were saying “Mello wouldn’t say that”. So Matt didn’t try to say it again.

Near thought it was like putting puzzle pieces in place. Matt was so frail if compared to Mello. Near knew frailty was difficult to deal with but he knew he could handle it. The path L chose for him had taught him many things.

 

Matt accepted the little glances, the small touches Near offered in the beginning.

Near had always been patient. But he wanted Matt to ask.

One day Matt was sitting on the floor, by the couch, a console in his hands. Near stood up, he didn’t like to stand up, his knees were a little too weak. He crouched down at Matt’s side. Matt looked at the little hand covering the screen. It was small, and white. Matt swallowed and turned.

Near looked at Matt chin, then at Matt’s eyes behind his goggles.

“You can ask, Matt”.

Matt looked at Near, a “game over” began to flash on the console screen. Gently Near took the console and turned it off.

Matt thought that Near had always been out of reach. Always under a bell jar. Mello had been the only one able to squint under it.

Near set the console on the floor and without saying a word he sat on Matt’s lap. Matt sank in the sensation of the weigh of Near’s body. He was light, just like Mello, but his bones were tinier. He was too white to look at.

Near wondered if he should repeat himself. With Mello he hadn’t need to tell him what to do.

Matt let his arms slide around Near’s waist, the pyjama rustled as he squeezed a little bit more. He wasn’t used to talk. He wasn’t used to ask. He just held Near like that. Near stoke patiently Matt’s hair. Mello sometimes had talked him about Matt. Near wanted to see the Matt that Mello had seen.

“ I know I’m not him.”

Matt didn’t want to look into Near’s pitch-black eyes. He let his fingers travel over Near’s neck bone. Mello had never talked about Near to Matt. He didn’t know how it was to embrace him, how it was to make love to him.

“I’m not him, neither”.

Near shivered as Matt spoke, his lips on Near’s neck. Near nodded.

 

The fitted carpet was a bit scratchy under Near’s back. Matt’s shoulders where smooth under his hands. He looked at Matt’s worried expression.

“You won’t hurt me, Matt”.

Mello was the one who taught them what pleasure was like. But it was the first time they were seeking it on their own.

Matt smiled in the tenderness of Near’s body, in that soft heat. Near let his hands wonder over the smoothness of Matt’s skin. They were careful. They were curious and afraid. They didn’t feel like this with Mello. Certainty was what they had got from Mello, it had been him to guide them.

 

Matt rested his head on Near’s chest. The sound of his heart was like the one of a clock hidden under a pile of clothes. Muffled and frail. Near looked at the ceiling, his hand barely brushing against Matt’s hair. He felt his back aching but he remained still, his back pressed against the carpet. It was like sitting on that blackboard when he was little. It was learning. Learning without numbers. Learning without life net.

 

  
Then Near left, and Matt followed Mello. Rooms were left empty at Wammy’s. They had to learn new things. Still…still Matt let memories flow in the smoke of the last drags of his cigarette at night. Memories of Near’s whiteness. Still Near let memories flow in the clattering sound of dice towers and plastic robots. Memories of Matt’s hands and elbows and shoulders. No blackboards, no inprinting. Memories of what he had learnt on his own.


End file.
